A Hope, From Helga
by suckr4romance
Summary: A story of the four founders, and what became of them. Written for Mugglenet's New Year Dreams Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: While everyone's been getting antsy about Chapter 25 of In Nomine Amoris, I've been dawdling. This is for Mugglenet Fan Fiction's New Year Challenge, and it's not done after this one chapter. It's going to be a ficlet, though. Two parts. The title of part one is the first half of a quote from _Hamlet, _and was used in the challenge prompt.

Enjoy!

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**A Hope, From Helga**

A Fan Fiction by suckr4romance of Hufflepuff House

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**Part One:** "To Sleep, Perchance to Dream"

I'm running, running through the shady wood. My skirts catch on a stray, fallen branch from a tree. But still I run, not pausing to catch my breath, nor to look back and see if he is following me now.

My chest heaves with each shallow breath. I try to deepen my breaths while simultaneously quickening my pace, but the effort proves futile.

Finally, I see light among the darkness, straight ahead and promising, hopeful. My hand stretches toward the illumination, but every step forward seems to be taking me farther and farther back. Time has stopped, and I am frozen in a universe of shadows, all sign of the once-present beam of light vanished from existence, as if it never existed in the first place.

I collapse to my knees, a mess of grass stains, mud, and torn clothes. I bow my head, in prayer that all hope is not lost. He could find me here; I know he could. And that thought sends a shiver down my spine.

I hear a twig snap from behind me, and my head jerks up at the sound—a reflex I had no control over. And all of a sudden, I'm standing in the middle of a town square. A new, black cloak rests on my shoulders, my tattered dress replaced with one of gold velvet.

The inhabitants of the town are going about their work as they do every day, but something intangible hangs over them, in the atmosphere. It is not a pleasant feeling; I briefly wonder whether or not they know something I do not. The overcast sky only serves to add a gloom to the air.

I walk between two children playing with a ball, past the bakery and an inn called Bloody Mary's. Through the window at Mary's, I catch sight of Godric inside. He is sitting at one of the wooden tables, chatting jovially with Rowena. Rowena blushes and bows her head as Godric pays her a compliment. I gather that they found each other in the restaurant by chance, for neither has made such a move as to suggest courting. Not as I know of, anyway.

It's only a minute before Rowena bids Godric farewell. He remains in his seat, running a finger around the rim of his glass thoughtfully. I imagine he's considering asking Rowena to his manor for supper this evening, and I hope his unflinching courage makes it happen. They both need a good kick in the right direction…

My gaze shifts to Rowena, who now treads the cobblestones of the road in her dragon-hide boots. I put a hand up in a waving gesture, but she doesn't see me. Her forehead is creased between the eyebrows—a sure sign she's thinking too hard about something.

I try to catch her attention by stepping out in front of her as she passes the fountain in the middle of the square, but to no avail. It's then that I realize: I'm invisible to her, to everyone. I yell out her name, and she doesn't even start. She only walks deliberately forward, her eyes trained on some object or person unbeknownst to me.

"Rowena!" a strong voice from behind us calls. "Rowena, wait!"

It is Godric. He is coming to ask her, just as I thought he would. But…Rowena keeps on going, as if she hasn't heard him. Just like she cannot hear me. Godric and I watch, perplexed, as Rowena continues toward an obscured figure in a dark alley way, between a robes shop and a small bookstore.

I stare in horror as Rowena meets up with the cloaked figure in the alley and kisses him passionately. It doesn't make sense, for her to go around kissing men in public, especially in such a way. She knows better than that; people will get ideas! All I can do is gawk as the kissing only becomes hungrier. The cloaked figure steps into the light, and I dare not believe my eyes.

Salazar Slytherin's hands coil around Rowena's waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Rowena!" I want to scream. "What are you THINKING?"

The couple breaks away long enough for me to see the expression on Rowena's face. And I have never seen a face as blank as Rowena's is right now. No creases, nothing; she cannot be thinking anything at all. Something feels wrong. This is not really Rowena, is it? She's acting completely reckless, and it isn't even bothering her…

I spy a venomous look on Salazar's face before he leans down to continue his show. He is taunting Godric; that much is certain. Godric instantly develops an angry glint in his eye and moves to crush Salazar's skull. I reflexively grasp Godric's wrist in an effort to stop him, but my hand goes right through him. He doesn't feel a thing, but instead keeps going.

All the sounds of the village cease, and when I turn, I see that everyone is looking at the scene before me. The baker is holding a tray of baguettes outside his store; the children playing with the ball have gathered closer in; all the other people have congregated around us as well.

Godric walks right up to Salazar. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says, his voice laden with hatred.

"And why not?" Salazar sneers. He thinks he owns the world. That's the main reason he's broken with us about Hogwarts. He wants all the credit and glory for himself. I don't want glory; I just want to be happy.

"She doesn't want to be with you!" Godric exclaims, taking Rowena by the arm.

"Check again, Gryffindor," Salazar says. "I do believe you'll find her quite compliant to me."

Godric shakes his head and narrows his eyes. "Rowena, come on. Let's get out of here."

Rowena's passive facial expression does not falter. "No." She wrenches her hand out of his.

"NO?" Godric echoes incredulously. "Why ever not?"

"I love Salazar," she replies, in the vaguest of tones. "I always have. Now leave us, Gryffindor."

"But—but—" Godric is dumbstruck. He fumbles over his words, until…

"Slytherin, I challenge you to a duel," he finally says.

Destruction is inevitable, I'm certain. I want to shout, scream, but I know it won't do any good. Then Salazar says the one word that seals the fate of all four of us.

"_Done."_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is connected in part to In Nomine Amoris, if you've read that story of mine. Enjoy.

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**Part Two: "Ay, There's the Rub"**

I wake with a start to find my woolen blanket at my feet. My entire body is drenched in perspiration, even though it is the dead of winter. Cold sweat is possibly the most unpleasant sensation one could ever feel. I gather my earthy brown cloak from its peg on the cold stone wall, and I tie it around my neck thoughtlessly.

I feel like a woman possessed, every footstep not my own. But, I do know my purpose—what I must do, having witnessed the scene in the town square. I am bound to share this with my dearest friend.

Or I shall never forgive myself.

I step up to the hearth of my bedchamber's fireplace. The flames inside dance merrily, a strong contrast to the horror I feel within my being. I take a handful of powder from the clay pot on the mantel and kneel before the fire. "The Glen!" I exclaim, my voice shaking slightly. And I am caught in a whirlwind of smoke and ashes.

I land in a cool fireplace, soft with old ashes. I wonder why no one has set it alight, as it is the coldest time of year, but that doesn't matter. I need to find her. I need to warn her.

"Rowena!" I call out, desperation echoing in every trace of my voice. "Rowena, where are you?"

No answer. I step out of the fireplace and onto the frozen stone floor. I wish I had thought to put on my slippers, but there is no time to mourn things forgotten.

"Rowena!" I cry again, throwing open her bedchamber door. The corridor, though lit by torches along the walls, is empty, and seems to have been so for years—yet I know that cannot be.

I dart down the hall, my cloak trailing after me, not even shielding my body from the freezing air, but I don't care. I descend Rowena's staircase as quickly as my ice cube feet allow me, and sprint into her drawing room.

Empty, again. Her castle is bereft of all life, with not even a fire to mark anyone's presence. I stumble onto the rug in the drawing room, lying prostrate before the would-be fireplace. I gather fistfuls of the dark blue material and tug hard to suppress my internal grief, just as the tears begin to fall.

I cannot believe it. It…it has already happened. How could I have been so blind? Had I not read any signs of Rowena's relations with Salazar? I am almost certain there had been nothing to indicate…

Oh, I'm a horrid, horrible friend to let this happen! I am scum. I am worthless. I am ashamed of myself—

A flash of vibrant green light catches my attention. I lift my head from the ground to see the last flames flicker out from the fireplace. A figure stands there, hidden in the shadows.

"Helga?" a woman's voice says—a sound I never would have known could bring such joy to my heart.

"Oh, Rowena!" I practically jump up from the floor, and into her arms, hugging her so tightly to myself, as if our very lives depend on it. "Where have you been? I've looked absolutely everywhere for you; you had me worried sick!"

Rowena looks at me in a dazed fashion. "What do you mean?"

I eye her suspiciously. "Where were you just now?"

"Oh, I was…well, I don't think…I don't remember." She shakes her head, and I notice her bronze hair is hanging loosely about her shoulders. Her eyes seem to sober. "Good heavens!" she exclaims, gasping and bringing a hand to her mouth. "I don't remember!"

"Are you sure?"

She looks pensive for a moment, her eyebrows creasing characteristically. "Yes, I am quite sure."

I sigh and plop onto the rug once more. "So it is true, then."

"What is true?" Rowena has always had such a curious mind.

"Salazar; you've been with him?"

"I've already told you," Rowena snapped, coming off as frustrated. "I have no earthly idea where I've been, and it's driving me mad! And why would I have been with Salazar? I hate him just as much as you do."

"I don't just hate him, Rowena. I fear him, and I fear what's to become of you as a pawn in his plan."

"His plan?" Her eyebrows crease once again.

And I sigh, again. "He is trying to ruin Godric; I know it. He aims to use you to get to Godric. He wants to _kill_ Godric."

"Kill him!" Rowena cries. "What on earth for?"

"I don't know," I mutter. "Power, I suppose."

"Wait a moment," Rowena suddenly says, holding up a long index finger. "How do you know all this?"

"I had a dream."

"A dream," she scoffs. "It was just a dream, then, Helga. Dreams don't foretell the future."

"I have never had a dream this strong, this vivid! I'm telling you, it had to mean something."

"You always obsess over the fantastic. I don't take stock in things such as that."

"You should, if you want to live."

"Ah, yes, for the weight of the world lies upon my shoulders, and if I should fail, Godric will die and the world will be doomed."

I take Rowena by the shoulders and shake her. "Would you listen to yourself? You're being ridiculous!"

She blinks at me, taken aback. I let go of her shoulders. "Rowena, I'm serious about this. I fear our world shall end before my very eyes, if we do not try to prevent it from happening."

"But what can we do?" Her voice cracks when she speaks. Tears are quickly welling up in her eyes. "Tell me, please, everything you've seen. I didn't mean to be so skeptical."

I leave not a detail from my dream out as I relayed it to her. She gasps so often, I know she will worry now, just as I am.

"I betray Godric?" she asks. "Both of you?"

"So it would seem," I say, "but nothing is for certain…I do wonder how Salazar convinces you to join him."

"He never could," Rowena assures me confidently. "I am harder to get through than mere persuasion, you know. I am stronger than that."

"Then…" I trail off, caught up in my train of thoughts. An idea—a horrific, terrifying idea—then springs to my mind. "A spell! Or something to that effect."

"But he can't do something like that without my knowledge." Rowena bit her lip. "Could he?"

"Merlin knows."

We sigh at the same time.

"How can we prevent something from happening, if we don't know when, where, or by what means he'll do it?" Rowena's face screws up in anguish. "I hate not knowing anything!"

"You _would_ hate that," I point out. "Which, I'm beginning to think, is why Salazar is going through you, and not me."

"I don't believe _that's_ why."

"You're right," I agree, nodding. "He's going through you—"

Rowena interrupts. "Could you please use another phrase? 'Going through me' only serves to frighten me more."

"Anyway—Salazar wants to get to Godric through his heart, and that's why, Rowena. Godric loves you; it's quite obvious."

Rowena's cheeks turn the shade of roses. "I'm…I'm quite fond of him, Helga."

"I know." We share a smile, mine being a knowing one. "It would be best for you to speak with him on the matter as soon as possible. We have no time to lose."

"You make it sound like a diplomatic mission, rather than a matter of the heart," Rowena observes. "But I shall do it. Tomorrow morning, at the tavern."

"I could not be happier for you," I say, meaning it with all my heart. I move forward to embrace her. We hold each other for a few moments, and then part. There is a feeling of tension in the atmosphere, and it follows me all the way back to my own bed. The unease stays with me, plaguing me with insomnia the entire night. I rise from bed at dawn and prepare for the day, intent on watching Rowena's actions at the tavern.

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Godric arrives shortly after Rowena. I do not alert Rowena to my presence; I want to observe the scene as it truly happens, without any interference whatsoever on my part.

They converse for a long while, until Rowena excuses herself. She exits the tavern, and I wave to her, wanting to pleasantly surprise her.

A glint of recognition briefly passes through her eye, but it fades so quickly I wonder if I have imagined it. Something in her countenance changes, her face setting harder, her steps more deliberate.

To my great horror, I realize with utmost certainty that Rowena is heading toward that exact same dark alleyway as in my dream, to the same cloaked figure.

"NO!" I scream out at the top of my lungs, pushing past a group of children and an old beggar. "Rowena, no!"

The townspeople are startled at my frantic yells. From the other side of the square comes a booming, powerful voice.

"Helga, what's going on?" Godric yells to me as he draws near. Unlike in my dream, he can see and hear me; Rowena, however, cannot. She is entranced, and just as before, she approaches Salazar in a way so unlike her, I _wish_ I were only having a nightmare.

Godric puts a hand on my shoulder, and then notices the couple in the shadows. The events from my prophetic dream play out exactly as I foresaw them, until the duel between Godric and Salazar begins. I look to Rowena, and I finally realize what has changed in her: she has been put under the Imperius Curse, or been given a potion. It is evident in her eyes.

The wary townsfolk retreat, into their houses and shops. No one wants to see the end of this battle—and neither do I.

I step out between Godric and Salazar.

"This must stop!" I cry. "There is no reason for this to happen!"

"I do believe you're wrong, Hufflepuff," Salazar drawls. "Whatever Godric wants, Godric gets. And if that entails me casting him into oblivion, then so be it."

"He's right," Godric says, never looking away from Salazar's evil, green eyes. "But not he, but I, shall do the casting."

"Step aside, silly girl!" Salazar snarls, impatient to begin.

"No," I state firmly, whipping out my wand. "You—you'll have to go through me first."

"Helga, why…?"

"I'm a Hufflepuff, Godric," I tell him. "Loyal to the end."

"Loyalty is for weaklings," Salazar spitefully says. He raises his wand. _"Crucio!"_

Pain…such indescribable pain…in my back…my neck…my chest…my entire body… I comprehend nothing beyond my own physical pains, each one more torturous than the next.

It is a long time before the burning ceases. I lie in twisted agony on my back, feeling the cobblestones of the road. Godric lies on his stomach several feet to my right. I stumble over to him on my knees and hold his head in my lap.

There is but a sliver of life left within him. I look around sharply and find we are the only two souls as far as the eye can see.

Godric stirs in my lap. I try to say his name, but my voice trembles fiercely.

"Helga," he mumbles.

"Yes, yes, I'm here," I regain my voice, encouraged by his.

"I need you to mem-memorize something for me."

Memorize something? I do not ask any questions. "Anything," I assure him, still puzzled.

His whisper is so soft that I have to bend my ear to his mouth to hear him. He struggles with every word. I want to cry, for never before have I seen him, the mighty lion, so weak.

"It is a poem," he says, "for Rowena—

_In my heart,_

_There it lies._

_Wisdom I have not,_

_As you've surmised._

_I amount to nothing_

_In thine eagle eyes._

_Truth be told,_

_You never knew_

_That my heart_

_Belonged to you._

_Easily forgotten,_

_True Love is._

_But no matter, for,_

_Now you are hiss._

_Love, Godric Gryffindor_

"I know I shall never see her again, so this must be done: write it down, and enclose it in a box in my desk's drawer." He gives me a few more instructions, and then takes my hand in his limp one.

"You are my truest, dearest friend, Helga. I want you…to know that."

"Of course," I whisper, tears finally falling down my cheeks.

And his eyes close forever.

I want more than anything, as I sit here weeping, to turn back time, to at least tell Godric that he was wrong. Rowena loves him; he was not unrequited. I want to tell him she was tricked, as was he. All of us had been fooled by Salazar, that master of cunning and deceit. If only we could go back and change how things had gone with him.

Godric will never know any of this. I will follow through with his request, and I can only hope—for Rowena, for Godric's soul, for our school, and for all generations to come, that they might have a brighter, happier tomorrow than the tomorrow I shall know.


End file.
